


Sl0t

by eightprince



Series: Acid Trip [1]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightprince/pseuds/eightprince
Summary: in which Daehyun experiences one hell of a sleep paralysis episode





	Sl0t

"Daehyun."

Someone's whispering Daehyun's name, and it wakes him back up again.

It's a familiar, soft voice. It’s smooth and rich. He can't put his tongue to it as to why it's so familiar. It's telling him to wake up.

His eyes snap open. He's in his bedroom. Everything seems to be normal.

There's someone whispering. He can't make out what the voice is saying. It's incoherent. All he can make out is the voice calling his name.

There's these weird marks all over Daehyun's skin. What are they?

Deeper.

Deeper, he sinks through the marks, the slots on his feet, they pull him down deeper.

Colors.

They strain his eyes, they blind him, they flicker and they glimmer. They make his vision insane.

His vision goes insane, and he's not the same.

Red. Blue. Green.

They're running down his veins, the veins in his brain, killing him slowly, making his body freeze up.

A strained gasp leaves his lips, and just like that, he can no longer move.

Whoever this being is, he told Daehyun before that blue meant life, that blue represented living and breathing and being alive.

He also told him that red meant love. 

He told him that red meant love.

They've never met before, but the voice that's speaking to Daehyun is distorted and eerie, as if it was made up of other voices, each voice different from one another.

"Blue is life," the voice whispers, "Red is love."

That doesn't make sense to him. He's heard it somewhere before, from someone, millions of times, but it never makes sense.

This is the first time Daehyun's met him, even though he's seen him in his dreams (he thinks he has), but it feels like he's always been with him.

This weird sense of deja vu starts creeping up on him through the slots on his arm as he stares at the man standing before him.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere?" Daehyun asks, voice soft, "Like, haven't I met you before?"

His lips aren't moving, but somehow, he's able to talk. Like telekinesis or something like that. 

"You really don't remember me?"

"Huh?"

"I can't believe that you don't remember me...but it'll all make sense soon. I promise."

Daehyun takes his words with a grain of salt.

"White is truth," the voice says, "White is honesty."

"I. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tell me the truth. Where have you seen me before?"

Daehyun squints at the figure, as his eyes are really the only part of his body that he can move right now. He's trying to recognize him, trying to remember where he's seen him before...

It hits him like a punch to the face.

"Youngjae," he says.

The figure grins as he takes a step closer, "It's been a while. How're you?"

White is truth. White is honesty.

Who is Youngjae, exactly?

"I've missed you," Youngjae says, walking towards Daehyun and climbing onto his bed.

The creaking sound of the bed when Youngjae puts his weight on it makes Daehyun flinch a little.

He sucks in a breath when Youngjae reaches out to touch his face.

"I've missed you," Youngjae repeats. The other voices that are mixed together with his own have grown louder than his own. It doesn't sound like Youngjae's speaking anymore.

"What the hell are you?" Daehyun asks, voice stern. He can't move away from Youngjae as he moves closer to him.

It's like he's stuck. He's frozen. He’s paralyzed. 

"I'm Youngjae," Youngjae replies with a small grin, "Y'know, we're dating and stuff. You really don't remember me?"

"Dating?"

"Dating," when Youngjae touches Daehyun's cheek, Daehyun's vision messes up again, and all these colors flicker and run down his veins.

"I can touch you, right?" Youngjae asks as Daehyun's vision goes insane.

He's not the same.

Vermilion. Cyan. Ebony. Burgundy.

Silver machinery.

They're all staring back at him.

There's this pounding feeling in his chest, and it stings like hell.

Why are his organs trying to escape this broken cage of his? This pounding, is it love?

No, it can't be.

Daehyun learns that this pounding can't be love.

It can't be love. It can't be. Right?

No, it's fear. Daehyun's scared out of his mind.

Your heart starts pounding like this when you're scared.

Or when you're in love.

They're separated. They're not in Daehyun's room anymore.

There's nothing here. It's like they're in complete darkness.

Why are they always separated by these bulletproof walls?

Daehyun stares out into the darkness. He feels oddly empty inside.

This feeling of emptiness and loneliness, is it love?

It must be.

"Jae," he calls out.

"Yeah?" 

It doesn't sound like Youngjae anymore. It sounds like a demon.

"I...I think I've missed you too."

Daehyun learns that this empty feeling could be love.

It must be love.

Someone starts humming.

It may be Youngjae, but the voices are still mixed in with his.

It doesn't sound like him anymore.

Despite this, he starts to sing, so deadly and sweet.

So powerful, yet so delicate.

The slots in Daehyun's skin begin to pour out reds, blues, and greens as Youngjae sings his soft song.

This magical spell of his can turn heaven into hell.

Daehyun's trying to move away, but he can't. He's stuck in the position he was in before he went to sleep.

"Dae," the distorted voice calls out, "Where are you? I want to see you."

"I...can't...move," Daehyun strains, he can barely talk, except for his little whimpers and gasps of fear.

"Huh? Why can't you move?"

"I...don't...know."

"Huh. That's really weird."

Well, no matter. Youngjae continues to sing that soft song.

It's a familiar melody, but Daehyun's too focused on getting the hell out of here instead of the tune.

He slows down his breathing in an attempt to calm himself down.

Youngjae approaches him, and Daehyun chokes on his spit.

A flash of light climbs up this bulletproof wall of darkness as Youngjae walks closer and closer to his limp body.

"I've been waiting for you," he says, looking down on Daehyun.

"Huh...?"

"Dae, I aimed for you, not in the literal sense, of course. You were my only shot. But once again, I failed."

"I don't...I don't understand."

"We were supposed to be happy together, Dae. But I let you down."

They were supposed to be together forever. Despite so, again, Youngjae failed.

He leans in to touch Daehyun's face again, "I've been waiting for this moment for a while. How long has it been? A few months?"

A few months can feel like an eternity.

Daehyun has no choice but to give in, at this point. He can't move away. Youngjae touches his face again, and all these colors bounce around in the darkness.

Youngjae's been waiting for this moment to come. 

The pink disappears and the black creeps upon.

"It's always the same," Youngjae mutters, the other voices hushed, as he carefully brushes Daehyun's bangs to the side, "Nothing will change."

His bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat.

His body flinches just a little as Youngjae's breath hits his face.

Youngjae's been waiting for this moment to come.

The green disappears and the purple moves on.

"It's always the same," Youngjae repeats, "Unless you can change."

Daehyun's ragged breathing echoes in the darkness. Youngjae places soft kisses on his face and neck, his fingers trailing up and down his arms.

"I've missed you so much," he gasps, "It's been forever."

This emptiness that Daehyun's feeling...it's love, right?

"Kiss...me," he says.

"I am."

"Lips. On the lips."

"Lips?"

"Please," Daehyun begs, "Please."

"As you wish," Youngjae leans in closer to press his lips on Daehyun's.

Soft sighs of pleasure arise from the both of them. Youngjae finally sounds like himself again.

"I missed you," he whispers into Daehyun's mouth, "I'm sorry that I left you behind."

It'll always be the same, it'll be the same until Daehyun's able to change.

Daehyun starts to melt.

All the hues of blue, ah, all the life, they're leaking out from the slots on his face.

All the hues of red, ah, all the love, they're leaking out from the slots in his wrists.

All the hues of white, ah, all the truth, they're leaking out from the slot in his head.

All the hues of red, ah, all the love, they're once again leaking out, but this time, from the slot in his chest.

This emptiness that he's feeling must be love.

"You can wake up now," Youngjae pulls back from the kiss, watching all the blues, reds, and whites pour out from the slots on Daehyun's body.

"Wake up," he repeats.

Daehyun squeezes his eyes shut. When he snaps them back open, he's back under the blankets in his room.

With a loud gasp, he jolts himself up in a panic. He can move again, he can talk again without all the pain following after.

He's hyperventilating as he tries to calm himself down and peeling his bangs off his forehead.

It was all just a dream. Youngjae's gone. He's been gone for a while now.

He was sick, and death snatched him away. That was a while ago, and Daehyun still isn't able to cope.

His hyperventilating slows as he sinks back into his bed.

"Dae?" A familiar voice calls out, "Are you okay?"

Daehyun's eyes snap back open.

He hesitates to shift his body to the side, but when he does, there's this person staring back at him with a soft smile on his face.

"Are you okay?" the voice repeats.

"Why the hell are you here?"

"That's not very nice."

Youngjae's here, laying in front of him, staring at him, for some reason. He's been dead for a while. Why is he here?

"Is this some kind of joke?" Daehyun asks, pushing himself away from him.

"You're so mean when you're waking up," Youngjae pouts, "Want to cuddle to make you feel better?"

"We can't. You're dead. You're not real anymore."

"I /am/ real. I'm right here," Youngjae sits up in bed, causing Daehyun to back further away from him, "You're looking at me, right?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Then that means that I'm real," he grabs Daehyun's hand, "Want more proof?"

Youngjae's skin feels warm, as if he's alive. He's not alive.

He puts Daehyun's hand to his chest, "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Daehyun can feel it. It's a soft heartbeat, beating at a slow pace. It doesn't make sense.

He snatches his hand back, "You're dead. Don't do this to me."

"What do you mean 'dead'?" Youngjae lets out a breathy chuckle, "I'm here."

"No, you're not."

It seems like the drugs Daehyun used just hours before are kicking in, and they're doing a damn good job at driving him fucking insane.

LSD wrappers, needles, empty pill bottles, they all clutter around his desk and dressers.

He's feeling all the physical effects at once; his pupils are dilated, he can't stop sweating, that wave of nausea makes him want to die just a little more than usual.

His heart's beating so fast that it feels like it'll eventually stop, this pounding, wait, this isn't love, right?

It shouldn't be love, right? Right. It’s fear. He’s scared.

He's seeing things that he shouldn't be seeing.

It's all in black, and white, and black, and white.

Black, white, black, white, black, white.

No, blue, and, green, and yellow, and red.

Everything that Daehyun sees, it's all blurry and hazy.

It's all in black, and white, and black, and white.

Black, white, black, white, black, white.

No, blue, and green, and yellow, and red.

These aren't the colors that he should be seeing.

"Dae," Youngjae reaches out to stroke his face, "You've gone pale."

"Please, don't touch me."

"Dae--"

"Don't."

"Why?" Youngjae frowns, "Why won't you believe me? I'm right here, I'm breathing, my heart's beating, I'm here--"

"I watched you die," Daehyun's voice cracks after every word, "I watched you die, I saw them bury you into the ground--just--fuck, why're you back? Why're you here?"

"Dae, please don't cry. I'm here now."

"No, you're not. They--they took you away from me, that was so long ago--"

"I'm here--"

"No, you're not!" Daehyun can't help but cry at this point, "You're not real anymore! This is all some kind of dream! I don't--god--I don't even know what's real anymore!"

"Baby, come here," Youngjae holds him close as he runs his fingers through his bed head.

"Don't...call me that," Daehyun whispers into Youngjae's chest.

His heartbeat is still soft and slow. It's weird.

"You're my baby," Youngjae grins, "I have to call you that. It's a rule."

"I'm not your baby anymore."

"You'll always be my baby, okay?"

Daehyun keeps telling himself that Youngjae's dead, that Youngjae's not coming back, but for some reason he's here, hugging him.

He has no choice but to give in anymore. 

When Youngjae places a soft kiss on his forehead, the colors flicker again and bounce off the walls.

Reds, blues, greens, they're everywhere, yellows, purples, oranges, they dance around the room.

The slots on Daehyun's body open up again, and the hues of different colors begin to pour out once more.

Youngjae's humming that melody again as he runs his fingers through Daehyun's hair. It sounds so familiar because Youngjae would hum it for him when he couldn't sleep.

It's so deadly, yet so sweet.

This magical spell of his can turn heaven into hell.

"Let's stay like this a little while longer," Youngjae whispers.

"I can't. My head hurts."

Not to mention that Youngjae's not real anymore.

"Dae," Youngjae's voice is distorted again, voices higher pitched and lower pitched than his own are speaking overtop of him, "Dae, look at me."

Daehyun looks at him, and he doesn't look the same. 

Well, he does actually look the same, but it doesn't feel that way. From the day of his funeral up until now, Youngjae looks different.

It doesn't look like he's been decomposed (even though he should), but he just...looks different, Daehyun's too high to understand.

It's the colors.

"Who the fuck are you?" Daehyun asks, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I'm Youngjae," Youngjae says with a small smile, his voice still distorted, "I'm twenty three and I was born on January 24th in Seoul. I have the honor of dating the most beautiful, most charming boy in the world--"

"No," Daehyun cuts him off, "No, shut up. Don't say that."

Youngjae blinks, "We're dating, right?"

"You're not real anymore."

"Dae, I told you, I'm back now--"

Daehyun pushes him away. There's hurt painted on Youngjae's face.

"Are you..." Youngjae's voice is soft, yet still distorted, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Am I what?"

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

"I can't...physically do that if you're not here--"

"Is it--is it because of the illness?" Youngjae whispers as his voice becomes more and more distorted, "That was out of my control. I'm sorry, I really am."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well--I just--" Youngjae sighs, trying to get his thoughts together, "I wanted to be together with you forever, but my body didn't want to, my body couldn't, because I got sick.

I wanted to get married and start a family with you, whether we adopted dogs or children, but we couldn't. I was in and out of the hospital, and I couldn't spend time with you like we used to, and I'm sorry.

All of this is my fault. I'm really sorry. I couldn't change for you. It always stayed the same. But if you could change for me, it could be different."

"You're not making sense. None of this makes sense."

That's exactly what happened, but Daehyun wasn't upset about it. He spent time with Youngjae at the hospital. They talked and he fed him and they made each other laugh. Daehyun wasn't mad at all.

The thing is that when Youngjae died, Daehyun couldn't cope with it, so he turned to drugs. Hard drugs, something more powerful than weed.

"Dae, would you die for me so we could be together again?"

"I'm already as good as dead."

Youngjae raises his eyebrows in surprise, "Oh?"

"When you were taken away from me, I had no idea how to cope with it," Daehyun breathes out, "I didn’t know how. I still don’t know how. They're killing me. They're fucking killing me, they're ruining me."

"Dae--"

"I'm already as good as fucking DEAD, Youngjae," Daehyun snaps, "What else do you want from me?"

"You don't deserve this."

"What?"

"Daehyun," Youngjae places his hands on Daehyun's shoulders, "Wake up. I've had enough."

"Huh?"

"Wake up," he repeats, "You don't have to suffer anymore."

"I'm awake."

"No, you're not. Wake up."

Daehyun stares at him. He realizes he's not awake when the slots in his skin start to pour out colors again and his vision's going crazy.

"I'm sorry," Youngjae whispers before pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Daehyun closes his eyes. And when he opens them again, everything seems to be normal. He's back in his bed, alone this time.

His breathing slows as he scans his room. The empty pill bottles and needles are still there, along with some bloody razors.

He has no memory of the razors being there before he passed out. His arms, legs, hands, feet, they're covered in fresh scars.

There's blood everywhere, and he gags at the smell. He's hit rock bottom, and he doesn't know if he can get out. 

He can’t cope. He doesn’t know how. The drugs, the scars, they’re killing him.

He starts to cry. There's so much happening. The sleep paralysis, the acid trip, the cutting, everything, it's all too much, and he's as good as dead.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, as all of the blood, ah, all of the love pour out from the slots in his skin.

“It’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> so this was the daejae thing i was talking about in the notes section of huge ego...its kind of like psychedelic silhouette (the concept is, anyway) so i'll make this into a lil series ^__^
> 
> based off of "sl0t" by mili


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